"COME BACK IN HERE!" he bellowed. "COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!" But a reckless rage had come over Harry. He kicked his trunk open, pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Uncle Vernon. "She deserved it," Harry said, breathing very fast. "She deserved what she got. You keep away from me." He fumbled behind him for the latch on the door. "I'm going," Harry said. "I've had enough." And in the next moment, he was out in the dark, quiet street, heaving his heavy trunk behind him, Hedwig's cage under his arm. Harry sat on a bench after he had made it a couple of blocks away. He needed to think about what he needed to do and how he was going to do it. He needed to get to Gringotts to get the heritage test that the sorting hat told him to get done back in his first year. He had not had the time to do it yet, he also needed to get money out of his vault. Harry also knew he needed to get a hold of Dumbledore, but how with Hedwig gone at the moment. He also needed to find some where to stay that no one would find him. He knew he was going to be expelled but he didn't want them to snap his wand. 'Maybe I can call out Fawks's name and see if he hears me like he heard my call for help last year' Harry thought. 'It's worth a try' Harry thought opening his mouthto never did get to try because right at that moment there was a rustling in the bushes across from him. "Lumos," Harry muttered while standing up. A light appeared at the tip of his wand, and Harry had just make out the outline of something big and black before a bus appeared in front of him with a loud BANG, causing Harry to fall back. A spit second later a conductor leapt out of the bus and started to speak loudly into the night. "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. just stick out your wand hand, step on board) and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve -" The conductor stopped abruptly. He had just caught sight of "Harry, who was still sitting on the ground. Harry snatched up his wand again and scrambled to his feet. Close up, he saw that Stan Shunpike was only a few years older than he was, eighteen or nineteen at most, with large, protruding ears and quite a few pimples. "What were you doin' down there?" said Stan, dropping his professional manner. "Fell over," said Harry. "'Choo fall over for?" sniggered Stan. "I didn't do it on purpose," said Harry, annoyed. One of the knees in his jeans was torn, and the hand he had thrown out to break his fall was bleeding. He suddenly remembered why he had fallen over and turned around quickly to stare at the alleyway between the garage and fence. The Knight Bus's headlamps were flooding it with light, and it was empty. "'Choo lookin' at?" said Stan. "There was a big black thing," said Harry, pointing uncertainly into the gap. "Like a dog... but massive..." He looked a-round at Stan, whose mouth was slightly open. With a feeling of unease, Harry saw Stan's eyes move to the scar on Harry's forehead. "Woss that on your 'ead?" said Stan abruptly. "Nothing," said Harry quickly, flattening his hair over his scar. If the Ministry of Magic was looking for him, he didn't want to make it too easy for them. "Woss your name?" Stan persisted. "Neville Longbottom," said Harry, saying the first name that came into his head. "So - so this bus," he went on quickly, hoping to distract Stan, "did you say it goes anywhere?" "Yep," said Stan proudly, "anywhere you like, long's it's on land. Can't do nuffink underwater. 'Ere," he said, looking suspicious again, ,You did flag us down, dincha? Stuck out your wand 'and, dincha?" "Yes," said Harry quickly. "Listen, how much would it be to get to London?" "Eleven Sickles," said Stan, "but for fifteen you get 'or chocolate, and for fifteen you get an 'ot water bottle an' a toofbrush in the color of your choice." Harry rummaged once more in his trunk, extracted his money bag, and shoved some gold into Stan's hand. He and Stan then lifted his trunk, with Hedwig's cage balanced on top, up the steps of the bus. There were no seats; instead, half a dozen brass bedsteads stood beside the curtained windows. Candles were burning in brackets beside each bed, illuminating the wood-paneled walls. A tiny wizard in a nightcap at the rear of the bus muttered, "Not now, thanks, I'm pickling some slugs" and rolled over in his sleep. "You 'ave this one," Stan whispered, shoving Harry's trunk under the bed right behind the driver, who was sitting in an armchair in front of the steering wheel. "This is our driver, Ernie Prang. This ,is Neville Longbottom, Ern. " Ernie Prang, an elderly wizard wearing very thick glasses, nodded to Harry, who nervously flattened his bangs again and sat down on his bed. "Take 'er away, Ern," said Stan, sitting down in the armchair next to Ernie's. There was another tremendous BANG, and the next moment Harry found himself flat on his bed, thrown backward by the speed of the Knight Bus. Pulling himself up, Harry stared out of the dark window and saw that they were now bowling along a completely different street. Stan was watching Harry's stunned face with great enjoyment. Harry was finially able to settle after the inital shock and start thinking of everything he needed to do. Now that he had a way of getting to Diagon Alley, he needed to to get to Gringotts and find a place to stay. Harry was so lost in thought about what he was going to do and what he was going to fing out from the heritage test that he was startled when he heard his name being brought up in conversation. "'Ear about that 'Arry Potter? Blew up 'is aunt! We 'ad 'im 'ere on the Knight Bus, di'n't we, Ern? 'E was tryin' I to run for it..." He, Harry, had broken wizard law just like Sirius Black. Was inflating Aunt Marge bad enough to land him in Azkaban? Harry didn't know anything about the wizard prison, though everyone he'd ever heard speak of it did so in the same fearful tone. Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had spent two months there only last year. Harry wouldn't soon forget the look of terror on Hagrid's face when he had been told where he was going, and Hagrid was one of the bravest people Harry knew. The Knight Bus rolled through the darkness, scattering bushes and wastebaskets, telephone booths and trees, and Harry lay, restless and miserable, on his feather bed. After a while, Stan remembered that Harry had paid for hot chocolate, but poured it all over Harry's pillow when the bus moved abruptly from Anglesea to Aberdeen. One by one, wizards and witches in dressing gowns and slippers descended from the upper floors to leave the bus. They all looked very pleased to go. Finally, Harry was the only passenger left. "Right then, Neville," said Stan, clapping his hands, where abouts in London?" "Diagon Alley," said Harry. "Righto," said Stan. "'Old tight, then." BANG. They were thundering along Charing Cross Road. Harry sat up and watched buildings and benches squeezing themselves out of the Knight Bus's way. The sky was getting a little lighter. He would lie low for a couple of hours, go to Gringotts the. moment it opened, then set off - where, he didn't know. Ern slammed on the brakes and the Knight Bus skidded to a halt in front of a small and shabby- looking pub, the Leaky Cauldron, behind which lay the magical entrance to Diagon Alley. "Thanks," Harry said to Ern. He jumped down the steps and helped Stan lower his trunk and Hedwig's cage onto the pavement. "Well," said Harry. "'Bye then!" But Stan wasn't paying attention. Still standing in the doorway to the bus) he was goggling at the shadowy entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. "There you are, Harry," said a voice. Before Harry could turn, he felt a hand on his shoulder. At the same time, Stan shouted, "Blimey! Ern, come 'ere! Come 'ere I" Harry looked up at the owner of the hand on his shoulder and felt a bucketful of ice cascade into his stomach - he had walked right into Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself. Stan leapt onto the pavement beside them. "What didja call Neville, Minister?" he said excitedly. Fudge, a portly little man in a long, pinstriped cloak, looked cold and exhausted. "Neville?" he repeated, frowning. "This is Harry Potter." "I knew it!" Stan shouted gleefully. "Ern! Ern! Guess 'oo Neville is, Ern! 'E's 'Arry Potter! I can see 'is scar!" "Yes," said Fudge testily, "well, I'm very glad the Knight Bus picked Harry up, but he and I need to step inside the Leaky Cauldron now..." Fudge increased the pressure on Harry's shoulder, and Harry found himself being steered inside the pub. A stooping figure bearing a lantern appeared through the door behind the bar. It was Tom, the wizened, toothless landlord. "You've got him, Minister!" said Tom. "Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?" "Perhaps a pot of tea," said Fudge, who still hadn't let go of Harry. There was a loud scraping and puffing from behind them, and Stan and Ern appeared, carrying Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage and looking around excitedly. "'Ow come you di'n't tell us 'oo you are, eh, Neville?" said Stan, beaming at Harry, while Ernie's owlish face peered interestedly over Stan's shoulder. "And a private parlor, please, Tom," said Fudge pointedly. `Bye," Harry said miserably to Stan and Ern as Tom beckoned Fudge toward the passage that led from the bar. "'Bye, Neville!" called Stan. Fudge marched Harry along the narrow passage after Tom's lantern, and then into a small parlor. Tom clicked his fingers, a fire burst into life in the grate, and he bowed himself out of the room. "Sit down, Harry," said Fudge, indicating a chair by the fire. Harry sat down, feeling goose bumps rising up his arms despite the glow of the fire. Fudge took off his pinstriped cloak and tossed it aside, then hitched up the trousers of his bottle-green suit and sat down opposite Harry. "I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry. The Minister of Magic." Harry already knew this, of course; he had seen Fudge once before, but as he had been wearing his father's Invisibility Cloak at the time, Fudge wasn't to know that. Tom the innkeeper reappeared, wearing an apron over his nightshirt and bearing a tray of tea and crumpets. He placed the tray on a table between Fudge and Harry and left the parlor, closing the door behind him. "Well, Harry," said Fudge, pouring out tea, "you've had us all in a right flap, I don't mind telling you. Running away from your aunt and uncle's house like that! I'd started to think... but you're safe, and that's what matters." Fudge buttered himself a crumpet and pushed the plate toward Harry. "Eat, Harry, you look dead on your feet. Now then... You will be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunate blowing-up of Miss Marjorie Dursley. Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Miss Dursley has been punctured and her memory has been modified. She has no recollection of the incident at all. So that's that, and no harm done." Fudge smiled at Harry over the rim of his teacup, rather like an uncle surveying a favorite nephew. Harry, who couldn't believe his ears, opened his mouth to speak, couldn't think of anything to say, and closed it again. "Ah, you're worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle?" said Fudge. "Well, I won't deny that they are extremely angry, Harry, but they are prepared to take you back next summer as long as you stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays." Harry unstuck his throat. "I always stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays," he said, "and I don't ever want to go back to Privet Drive." "Now, now, I'm sure you'll feel differently once you've calmed down," said Fudge in a worried tone. "They are your family, after all, and I'm sure you are fond of each other - er - very deep down." It didn't occur to Harry to put Fudge right. He was still waiting to hear what was going to happen to him now. "So all that remains," said Fudge, now buttering himself a second crumpet, "is to decide where you're going to spend the last two weeks of your vacation. I suggest you take a room here at the Leaky Cauldron and "Hang on," blurted Harry. "What about my punishment?" Fudge blinked. "Punishment?" "I broke the law!" Harry said. "The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry!" "Oh, my dear boy, we're not going to punish you for a little thing like that!" cried Fudge, waving his crumpet impatiently. "It was an accident! We don't send people to Azkaban just for blowing up their aunts!" But this didn't tally at all with Harry's past dealings with the Ministry of Magic. "Last year, I got an official warning just because a house-elf smashed a pudding in my uncle's house!" he told Fudge, frowning. "The Ministry of Magic said I'd be expelled from Hogwarts if there was any more magic there!" Unless Harry's eyes were deceiving him, Fudge was suddenly looking awkward. "Circumstances change, Harry... We have to take into account... in the present climate... Surely you don't want to be expelled?" "Of course I don't," said Harry. "Well then, what's A the fuss about?" laughed Fudge. "Now, have a crumpet, Harry, while I go and see if Tom's got a room for you." Fudge spun around on his heels and sweeped out of the room. Harry was feeling extremly releived that he was not going to get expelled and that he had somewhere to stay. Now he just needed to get a hold of Dumbledore and go to Gringotts. Tom the Inn keeper came into the room a few miniutes later to help Harry over to his own room. "Hedwig," Harry exclaimed when they walked into the room. "You have a very smart owl there, she arrived just after you did." Tom informed Harry. Harry walked over to stroke the snowy owl. Hedwig leaned into Harry's hand as he stoked her head. Tom left closeing the door behind him so Harry could get some rest after his long night. After a minute of petting Hedwig, Harry went and changed into his pajamas and climbed into to bed. Harry was so exhausted that he was asleep before his head hit the pillows.